5 Years of Wrecking
by BashfulGnome
Summary: A collection of oneshots written in celebration of Wreck-It Ralph's 5th anniversary.
1. Understanding

**A/N: From October 29, 2017 through December 2, 2017, the Wreck-It Ralph fandom celebrated the 5th anniversary of the film with a tumblr event called 5 Years of Wrecking! Each week had a different focus, and each day of the week had a different theme, with Fridays being "Fanworks". I wrote a story for each week of the event on my blog, so I'm posting them here as well.**

 **So here's a little something I wrote for 5 Years of Wrecking's Week 1: Felix and Ralph Week. It's set on the night after the events of the movie take place (but before the epilogue, obviously) and references Anniversary, a fic I wrote 3 years ago. I've always wanted to write this scene between Ralph and Felix, and I hope I did it justice. Enjoy!**

* * *

Ralph settled into his old familiar brick pile, for once happy to be back. The exhilaration and terror of the past two days' adventure had worn him out; returning to a full day of work immediately afterwards didn't help. He rolled his arms backward, cupping an enormous hand atop its opposite shoulder, and then let his arms fall to his sides with a tired shrug. He set to work scraping together a bed, arranging his bricks with a clattering din, his mind drifting to ruminations on his sprightly new best friend, his brush with fiery death, the rich aroma of tomorrow's pies baking on the 8th floor…

"Ralph?"

He nearly stumbled backwards at the sudden sound, lost in thought as he was. Turning around, his eyes came to rest upon the small form of Felix, whose gaze was fixed on the ground in front of his shoes. He looked flustered; tired in a different way than Ralph felt, and he had a small cloth bag slung over one shoulder.

"Oh hi– hey Felix. Need somethin'?"

The handyman wrung his gloved hands together for a moment before removing his hat and making eye contact.

"Ralph, I…just wanted to apologize."

Ralph released the bricks he had been holding and let them drop onto the heap. "What for?"

"You know. I didn't do what I should've done these past thirty years. I oughtta come around and check on you now and again, see if you need anything, but I never did. That's on me, and I'm sorry."

Ralph stood silent, taken off-guard by the gesture. Though he'd envied him for decades, he hadn't held it against the handyman. Felix was just the Good Guy and got all the good stuff, and that's how Ralph thought it would always be.

"Oh! Uh…that's– thanks! But you don't– I mean it's not like you were, y'know, being an, uh…" Ralph mimed sipping a martini and adjusting an imaginary mustache with a 'harumph'.

Felix stared blankly for a moment, but his eyes widened upon understanding the reference. He shook his head.

"But I shouldn't've listened to them…or let them get me so jittery about it. I wanted to say something to help, but I was afraid of makin' them all miffed…afraid that maybe they were onto something…" He hung his head. "…So I convinced myself that you were doin' alright. That if you needed something, you'd come find me, just like they do."

Ralph chuckled nervously and put a hand behind his head. "W-well, I mean, I did some convincing myself. Coulda left the ol' brick pile and bugged you a bit instead of telling myself it was comfortable."

Felix straightened up again, a confused expression on his face. "How were you supposed to know I could help you if I was out having fun with the folks who were giving you a hard time?"

"Look, Felix, I–"

"There wasn't a single soul in Niceland who'd even give you the time of day!" His face flushed at his own tone of voice, and he placed a hand on his chest. "My name's on this game, right across the top with a backlight and everything. _I_ failed you, Ralph. This is your home, too, and I'm as responsible for you as I am for the Nicelanders. I should've realized that a long time ago."

Another uncomfortable silence fell between them. Ralph wasn't sure how to respond to all of this. Sure, he was happy to get an apology, but it just felt…foreign to him. He didn't realize anyone had worried over him enough to feel this remorseful, especially someone with whom he didn't have any particular issues.

Felix put his hat back on, turning away slightly. "It's okay if you don't wanna talk to me. I'd just like you to know that things are gonna be different from here on out, I promise. A-and I brought you something. M'sorry it's not much, but there'll be more where this came from."

Felix reached into the bag at his side and pulled out an apple pie, still visibly steaming.

"It's the last one of the day—kept it in my oven so it's still hot 'n fresh. I had to make sure you got your first pie from me."

Ralph slowly reached out and accepted the dessert, inhaling deeply to savor the scent he'd never experienced up close. He couldn't believe it; after 30 years, a fresh pie, just for him. And it was an offering of sincere apology rather than pity. He rested a hand—or as much of it as he could—on Felix's back, letting up a bit when the handyman's legs buckled.

"Hey. Felix."

The smaller man looked up.

"Thanks. I mean, really, _thank you_. I'm not… _mad_ at you, I just–" he gestured at Vanellope's medal around his neck and the pie in his hand "–this is all sorta new to me. Wasn't expecting it, y'know?"

"Oh, much obliged!" Felix smiled, his posture relaxing. "Why don't you come on over to the apartments tomorrow morning and have breakfast with us, then? It's far past time we all got to know you."

"You sure? I dunno if Gene's gonna do what Gene does."

"Gene won't do a thing; I just got done talking to him. I think we made some real progress!"

Ralph suddenly realized why Felix had looked so shaken earlier. "If I can get an apology outta him then I'm really going places."

An amused giggle escaped from Felix which caused Ralph to laugh in response, as the tension finally dissipated.

"If there's anything I can do to help, all you have to do is tell me and I'll be on it in a jiffy. Whatever I can do to make it up to you for all these years."

"Heh, well, you kinda put me on the spot here but I'll see what comes up." Ralph glanced back at the brick pile and scratched his head. "Maybe in the morning I'll think of something."

Felix patted Ralph's arm in parting. "Then I'll see you at breakfast. Enjoy that pie, brother."

"Can do!" He waved to his retreating friend. "You go get some rest, and dream about that lady who knocked my jaw off my face."

"Ralph!"

The wrecker doubled over with a chortle at Felix's flustered expression and immediate blush. "Heh, sorry, couldn't resist! 'Night, Felix."

The handyman shook his head and grinned. "'Night, Ralph."

And as Ralph tucked into some homemade pie for the first time, slowly lulled to a good night's sleep under the pixel stars that felt warmer than ever, he couldn't wait to see what tomorrow would bring.


	2. Learning

**A/N: Week 2: Ralph and Vanellope! I wanted to write something light and fun for these two, since a lot of my fics tend to be analytical and pensive and stuff. This one can take place anytime after the movie, but I had a post-epilogue setting in mind. Happy reading!**

* * *

"Come on, Ralphie!"

"Slow down, kid! You're gonna make me spill the pebbles!"

Ralph followed Vanellope up the hill to the clearing where the taffy swamp sat, at the base of the candy cane tree where they first met. He carefully pushed a wheelbarrow full of hard candy stones they'd spent the previous evening collecting. Vanellope had insisted on keeping the stones near the castle so they could find them the next morning, but it made for a long trek to their destination.

"Okay," Ralph sighed as he released the handles of the wheelbarrow, letting its legs land on the dusty ground with a soft plop, "here we are."

"Geez, it took ya long enough!" Vanellope glitched onto the top of the pile, bouncing with excitement. "Show me the trick!"

"Gimme a minute, I gotta find the right one…" Ralph examined the pile and selected a medium-sized, flat-bottomed yellow stone that fit comfortably between his thumb and index finger.

"So, first thing's first," he started, taking on something of a scholarly air. "A good skipping stone's gotta be dense and have at least one flat side."

Vanellope immediately broke into a cheeky grin and stifled a giggle. "Sounds familiar to me!"

Ralph shrugged good-naturedly. "I know, I know. C'mon, work with me here."

She waved off the comment. "Go on, continue your presidential briefing."

"All right. As I was saying, you need a flat side or it won't skip right. Now, you hold it like so, and…" He slowly turned his arm outwards and then flicked it forward in a sideways arc, releasing the stone.

 _PLIPPLIPPLIP…_ _ **PLUNK!**_

Vanellope shot up off her perch with a whoop and a whistle.

"YEAH! I wanna try!"

Ralph felt a tinge of pride swell up in his chest. "Heh, knock yourself out. Here, just like I showed you."

After a few minutes of form adjustments and selecting an adequately flat turquoise pebble, Vanellope hurled the candy rock towards the taffy. It skipped once, bounced at an oblique angle, and ricocheted off of the trunk of the candy cane tree with a sharp _clink_ , landing a few feet away from the swamp's edge.

She glitched into a victorious jump and swung a fist in the air. "Are you seein' this, Ralph? I did it!"

"Hey, great start– top shelf!"

"Top shelf!" Vanellope hopped up and bumped Ralph's outstretched fist.

"Now, aim off to the left or you'll keep hitting the tree."

Vanellope had already grabbed another handful of pebbles and started firing them off one by one. A few sunk immediately, but the rest skipped once or twice before sinking or bouncing away. Sensing a challenge, Ralph picked up a large, orange, nearly-perfect disc-shaped stone and whipped it across the swamp. The stone skipped four times in quick succession, then glided across the remainder of the gooey surface to the opposite shore. He laughed and dusted off his hands in accomplishment.

"Whoa, how'd a big klutz like you get to be so good at this?"

Ralph put a hand behind his head. "Hah, well, nobody really used the lake behind the apartments for anything. I mean, nobody except the ducks, and they didn't mind watching me goof around."

"You're lucky you didn't have to hide. This'd never work inside Diet Cola Mountain," Vanellope responded quietly.

Ralph put a hand on his friend's head and smiled when she looked up at him. "Remember, you don't have to hide anymore. You can really let 'em fly out here and nobody's gonna give you a hard time."

Vanellope beamed. "Now there's an idea…betcha couldn't throw a whole bunch at once."

He chuckled. "Well, _Miss President_ , I'm not a betting man. But for you, I'll accept the wager."

The wrecker dipped one enormous hand into the wheelbarrow and scooped out a pile of assorted stones. He approached the swamp, readied his arm, and flung the contents of his grip towards the taffy like a hail of sugary shrapnel.

A rainbow of different sizes and shapes danced across the taffy and the ground nearby, covering the swamp, before the clumsier pieces sunk into the liquid with a _thwoop_. One large, round, green stone stayed in place on the taffy's surface, drifting towards the edge.

"Woohoo! Look at 'em go, kid!"

Vanellope squinted. "Wait, isn't that…?"

The round item bobbed up out of the taffy and rolled onto the shore, gasping and flailing about.

"Sour Bill?!" the two friends exclaimed in unison.

The president and the wrecker rushed over to the edge of the swamp.

"Aw man, sorry about that! Here, lemme clean that off before it dries." Ralph picked up the candy assistant and held him at face level.

" _ **NO!**_ No– I'm fine. Please, put me down."

As soon as his feet touched the ground, Sour Bill spun his body at a brisk whirl, while keeping his hands and feet held in place. The action sent wet chunks of taffy raining in all directions as Ralph and Vanellope shielded themselves from the sticky onslaught. Before any questions could be asked, the frazzled green candy took off in the direction of the castle, muttering something about official duties that needed his attention.

"…Sheesh, I was just gonna wipe him on my shirt. What was he even doing in there?"

Vanellope wracked her brain for a moment before it dawned on her.

"Maybe you're not a bettin' man, Ralphie, but Sourface sure is. Looks like he lost a big one with Crumbelina. If you gamble too much with her, you can't nap in peace 'till you're even."

"Okay then–" Ralph clapped his hands together and made a mental note not to learn more about this than he had to– "let's get back to business. How's about I line up some gumdrops on the other side and see if you can skip a stone into 'em?"

"Yeah, show me targeting! I wanna be a fiend with these babies!" Vanellope clenched her fists around the stones in anticipation.

They both knew this was how it should be – Stinkbrain, Fartfeathers, a bit of weirdness, and a good time.


	3. Devotion

**A/N: Week 3: Hero's Cuties! A short piece about Tamora and Felix's thoughts on how they came to be together, and some memories throughout their relationship. Enjoy!**

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Tamora wasn't sure what first attracted her to him. He was a nervous little guy, and looked like he'd fall over if she breathed on him too hard. But at the same time, he was quite earnest in his affection – few would have been courageous (or suicidal) enough to approach her with such sentiments. She'd never seen anyone so entranced at the sight of her before.

" _Jimminy jamminy! Look at that high definition—your face! It's amazing…"_

" _Flattery don't charge these batteries, civilian. Now state your business."_

Felix, for his part, had momentarily forgotten his own name; in his thirty years at the arcade he'd never laid eyes on anyone quite so gosh-darn captivating. He knew he wanted to—and had to—follow her, since half of the mess was his responsibility, but he didn't have the foggiest idea whether he could properly court such a formidable lady.

Even though at first glance, he didn't seem like the sort who could last five minutes in a life as chaotic as hers, he proved he could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her where it really mattered. As much as he took to old-fashioned romantic gestures and was easily disturbed by violence, he'd be a fighter if it was required of him. Tamora later discovered he had pretty good aim once she'd taught him the basics of her game's weapons, even if the recoil was a bit much for the handyman sometimes.

" _You alright there? Damn thing almost took your shoulder clean off."_

" _Oh my land, ma'am…I did it!" he laughed as he got up. "That target's good and finished!"_

But Felix was in his element in the pleasant surroundings of Niceland, the kind of place where nobody bothered to lock their doors at night. It was there where he'd eventually built them a house not long before they married, after seeing her smack her head against one too many low doorways in his apartment. Tamora wasn't going to have to put up with a home where she couldn't rightly stand up. It was the least he could do to be the husband she deserved.

She appreciated the pleasant surroundings, a physical and psychological break from the stress of Hero's Duty. Unlike her rather austere living space in her game, the simplicity and peace of their home put her at ease, and the nightmares were less frequent there. She didn't know if it was the place itself or if Felix just made it so—he seemed to radiate an almost cloying, omnidirectional cheeriness, and she had to admit it was endearing.

" _You're smiling like you're up to something, soldier. What's so funny?"_

" _Ah, nothing. Just mighty pleased, is all."_

Felix found that Tamora was quite protective of him, which he initially figured was just a consequence of living in constant danger. It wasn't often that anyone really tried to cross him—and in the past he didn't leave his game very frequently anyway—but she'd throw one heck of a glare at anybody who looked like they were going to try anything. He wasn't allowed into Hero's Duty by himself until she'd trained him and provided him with his own weapon and armor. And she'd even saved him from several distressing conversations by unceremoniously picking him up and carrying him away without a word, leaving the other participant too confused to react. Of course, there was more to her habits than he realized.

Early on, she hated to have to bring up the topic of Brad, both for her own health and the knowledge that she didn't want to give that shortstack even more reason to worry about her. If she really wanted to probe her thoughts, at the core she was plagued with the suspicion that all of it—her game, her backstory, her abrasiveness, her mannerisms, Tamora _herself_ —would scare him away. But he had been understanding, and listened to the whole story in silence. The handyman even shed some tears, and offered her a retreat from the warzone. That was when she started spending nights in his apartment in the first place. And it was when she discovered that a gentle voice, listening ear, and warm touch could make PTSD a little more bearable.

" _Fix-It, you've got more patience than even I'm capable of wasting."_

" _Tammy Jean, don't ever say that! You're always welcome here."_

He wanted to be able to provide Tamora with a comfortable life. The events that brought them together made him painfully aware that he was lucky to be without the troubles—both pre-programmed and lived—that many others suffered. Such an amazing lady deserved the best.

And she wanted to let him into her life, give him a chance. He was the real thing, after all, and so was their relationship. It was indescribably comforting to know that something like this wasn't just in her head.

As time passed, they didn't really notice the height difference much anymore. They'd both learned to accommodate it, whether in domestic tasks, intimacy, just walking through Game Central Station after-hours in search of adventure—it was natural for her to look down and meet his gaze on its way up.

" _Hey there, hon." She swatted down the bill of his hat. "You planning something for tonight?"_

 _He pushed his hat back into place with a flick of his wrist. "It's a surprise, Tammy~!"_

Both of them enjoyed just resting there in each other's arms after lovemaking.

Tamora could hold all of Felix at once—it was a welcome result of his adorably small size—and it was just one of many things she loved about him. Burying her face in his hair and lightly tickling his sides elicited the cutest giggles from the handyman. Holding him brought her comfort, away from the dark corners of her own mind. His caresses were gentle and she would sigh as his hands doted on every inch of her. For her part, she went in for a deep kiss, gliding the tips of her curled fingers down the middle of his back as he shuddered under her touch. Without fail, he honeyglowed every time they were alone together like this, whenever he saw her enjoying herself.

Felix loved the feeling of Tamora holding him close. It made him feel cozy and safe, not to mention the contentment of knowing that his beloved wife was happy. For all her scars and muscle—oh, how he adored running his hands along them and hearing those relaxed sighs!—being enveloped in her arms was a surprisingly soft, warm sensation. The sergeant wasn't one to display her feelings excessively, so these intimate cuddles felt extra special.

And on that chilly night, as the evenings grew longer and the days slightly less hectic at Litwak's Arcade (well, until the calm ended and the holiday storm of gamers arrived) Tamora lay awake just to reminisce and have a few more hours with Felix before their time together would again become compromised by the duties their games imposed. They'd been together for five years now—around four as husband and wife—and she still couldn't believe how much things had changed for the better. One of these days she'd have to bring herself to thank Wreck-It for going Turbo in the first place.

"Time really flies, Felix. Tired of me yet?" Tamora smiled and pulled his hand towards her to kiss it.

Felix giggled and returned the gesture. "Oh you know I'm not, honeybadger, that's just silly. You could've had anyone in the arcade—gosh, anyone you wanted. I'm honored that you chose me."

His seriousness took her off-guard; it genuinely warmed her heart to hear those words out loud. Honeyglows of her own crept onto her cheeks as she ruffled his hair.

"Aww, you're killin' me here, babe. How am I supposed to follow that?"

"You don't have to. I just wanted to make sure you knew."

She chuckled. "You know I love you."

He nodded. "Love you too," he replied with a smile. "Whether we've got five more years here, or five hundred."

And once again, curling around Felix and pulling up the covers, Tamora was reminded of just how lucky they both were.


	4. Mischief

**A/N: Week 4: Core Four! A Thanksgiving-themed story to fit in with this week's festivities. Naturally, there's never a dull moment with these guys.**

* * *

Tamora glanced at the pot of boiling water on the stovetop. "Your pasta's almost done, shortstack. Looks different this time."

"Luigi showed me a new recipe for stuffed shells last week! I wanted to give it a try," he responded excitedly.

She raised an eyebrow. "How're you gonna eat those? They're mostly cheese, aren't they?" she replied in between shoving handfuls of stuffing into the turkey.

He smiled and held up a plate containing two piles of filling – one with yellowish bits, and one a creamy white. Both smelled delicious. "I'm trying eggplant for half of the batch. Should be interesting!"

Working off of the counter behind them, Ralph whistled to himself as he rhythmically pounded away on his super-sized bowl full of cooked potatoes, stopping occasionally to crush a clove of garlic into the mix. The scent was so pleasant that he didn't even mind how the mixture clung to his fingers. He was glad to be hosting the Thanksgiving prep work; it was nice to have family in the house on a busy holiday morning. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Vanellope sitting under the kitchen table, sampling one of the pies Mary had supplied.

"Kid, cut that out. We're not gonna have enough pies left over for Hero's Duty if you keep eating them."

She leaned her head back against a chair leg, exasperated. "I'm only having one, sheesh," she pouted, licking the cherry filling off her fingers.

"Hey Sarge, can you make sure she doesn't get to any more of the pies?" He held up his hands to demonstrate that they were covered in warm potato-and-garlic paste.

"I'd love to, but I'm elbow deep in the ass-end of a bird, in case you haven't noticed."

He groaned in response. "Felix, can you put the pies somewhere Vanellope can't reach?"

The racer took the opportunity to retreat outside and eat her pie in peace. Felix saw her leaving but looked the other way. He'd had a hankering for pie all day and really didn't blame Vanellope for snatching one, since they had plenty.

He drained the pasta through a colander over the sink. "Did you say something, brother?"

"Never mind. She made a break for it," Ralph shrugged.

"Anyway, how're the potatoes coming, Wreck-It? It looks like we're gonna have enough to feed the whole arcade."

"Heh, well, that's sorta the plan. Anything we don't get to is gonna go to the Nicelanders' spread. They're hosting East Niceland this year so I'll bring over the extra mashed potatoes when we all go drop by later."

Tamora finished stuffing the turkey and opened the oven door. "Good thing we're doing this at your place. Our stovetop couldn't fit a bowl that size."

"We can make everything at once with this much elbow room!" Felix added, scooping the filling into the shells on a pan.

"Yeah, I've even got enough room in there to keep the leftovers warm until we're all done and ready to go. Speakin' of which, let me throw these on top." Ralph set his bowl on the stove, covering it with a lid. "There! Wouldn't be the same without the old Ham Hands touch."

Felix slapped a hand over his forehead. "That reminds me, I knew I forgot something! I left our sauce at home. I'll be right back." He pulled off his apron and headed out.

—

"Ah, there we go." Felix closed his front door, can of tomato sauce in hand. He was just about to head off when he saw Vanellope approaching from the lake. As she came closer, he noticed that she was holding the empty tin from the pie she'd enjoyed earlier.

"Vanny, what were you doing all the way out there?"

"I couldn't finish all that pie, so I brought the rest down to the lake and fed it to the ducks! They liked it so much, they wanna be friends!" She gestured to the ducks at a distance behind her.

For a few seconds, the waterfowl continued plodding along at a calm pace, following the lingering scent of the pie. However, upon catching sight of Felix, the ducks began angrily beating their wings and quacking frantically. Before he could react, the handyman found himself covered in an aggressive mob of noise and feathers.

"H-hey! What's the big idea? What'd he do?" Vanellope waved the tin around in an attempt to scare off the ducks.

"They– _ow!_ –aren't awfully fond of me– _ouch!_ –for some reason! I think they're – _aah!_ –programmed to attack me on sight! Felix struggled to be heard over the deafening quacks and stinging bites.

His screams and the swinging pie tin did nothing to discourage the winged tormentors, and every time he flailed an arm in their direction, it seemed like five more ducks would flock to it. He clutched the can of sauce to his chest, desperate to keep the ducks away from it. Within minutes, the handyman resembled a frightened heap of feathery anguish.

"What makes them go away?!"

"They don't leave– _yeow!_ –until they're good and ready!"

Suddenly, three gunshots rang out above their heads and the ducks released Felix, milling around in confusion. Ralph and Tamora came running through the opening, the latter waving her arms and yelling threateningly.

" _ **HEY!**_ Leave him alone! It's not too late to cook _your_ giblets too!"

With the same frenzy of wingbeats and quacks, the flock of ducks scattered in every direction, not wanting to take their chances with the furious woman and her giant friend.

"Beady-eyed little nuisances…Here you go." Tamora retrieved Felix's hat, which had fallen off during the rather one-sided fight, and brushed the dust off her husband, doting on him a bit. "You hurt?"

Groaning, Felix slowly pulled himself to his feet, with Tamora's help.

"Thank you, puddin'." He took the hat and replaced it on his head. "I'm– _ah!_ –okay. A little sore, but nothing the ol' hammer can't fix." He winced at the bruises on his arms. "Luckily they didn't get to the sauce."

"Hoo boy, brother, that was ugly. Glad you're in one piece," the wrecker sighed, relieved, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry Felix! I thought maybe the pie'd calm them down!" The tiny president glitched with concern.

Ralph scooped her up in one hand. "Vanellope, I told you those ducks are unpredictable," he scolded.

"You didn't tell me they hated Hammertime so much!"

"Well, at least we can mark 'front lawn brawl' on the Thanksgiving Bingo this year," Tamora deadpanned, and pushed Felix's hat down over his face, making him blush. "C'mon, let's finish the dinner prep already."

"And Vanny?" Felix righted his hat and turned to the child, still seated in Ralph's hand.

"Yeah?"

"Let's both hold off on the pie for now."


	5. Company

**A/N: Week 5: Free Week! Since there's no specific focus this week, my final story for 5 Years of Wrecking covers a dynamic I haven't really written much before. Happy reading!**

* * *

At first, Ralph hadn't noticed the sergeant on his way into Tapper's for a drink. It was a busy evening, and the establishment was filled nearly to capacity with revelers and brooders alike. She sat alone, staring into space, drumming her fingers against the side of her stein. He couldn't tell if she was smoldering with anger or if that was just her resting expression. In the few days since the Sugar Rush incident they hadn't really run into each other alone, and truth be told, he was still a little uneasy around her.

The wrecker turned away and attempted a discreet escape, assuming he was out-of-range of her peripheral vision, but of course he wasn't so lucky.

"Hey."

He froze, slowly turned back around, and forced a grin.

"Hey, uh…there!"

She patted the open seat next to her, still not averting her stare from whatever it was she had been threateningly squinting at. Not wanting to test her patience, he took the seat and waved down Tapper for a round.

A drawn-out silence followed between them. At a far table, Eggman drunkenly giggled at Bowser, who was unsuccessfully attempting to have his drink without wearing it. Ralph groaned. Not the best first impression of Bad Guys for her. He heard the familiar _bloop-pssh_ of Tapper filling a stein, and reached out his hand to catch his root beer as it slid down the bar.

He noticed she had looked away, in the direction of her men. A group of four whooped and pounded the table in front of their booth seats as another two held an impromptu arm wrestling competition. A seventh Marine sat disengaged, inelegantly sobbing into his empty glass. All of them lowered the volume of their yelling and table-pounding when one noticed their sergeant staring.

"So, um, how's it going?"

She turned and made eye contact with him for the first time during their meeting, appearing as though she had momentarily forgotten he was sitting there.

"Pretty sure we were never properly introduced. Sergeant Calhoun of Hero's Duty." She held out an armored hand.

"Ralph – Wreck-It Ralph, from the game Fix-It Felix Jr., " he replied, returning the handshake. He had expected a first name, but figured he'd learn it eventually.

"Excuse the boys' choir over there." She jerked her head in her troops' direction. "It's been a pretty long day, so I took 'em out for some R&R."

"Oh, uh, no problem." He laughed nervously and glanced at the motley crew of Bad Guys playing paper football with the complimentary bar peanuts.

"So how's the kid doing?"

He suddenly beamed. "Vanellope? She's doin' great! Finally got to be in a real gameplay race the other day." He shook his head and took a sip of his drink. "Man, you should see her go."

Calhoun slightly recoiled at the sudden enthusiasm, but her expression softened a bit. "Good for her. She's a spunky little thing."

"Heh, yeah. I really owe her. Wasn't expecting anyone to come back for me there, y'know?"

"She jumped right through a horde of cy-bugs to get to you. I should've made her a recruitment offer." She chuckled to herself.

Ralph raised his eyebrows. "The little crumb-snatcher didn't tell me that! _I_ had a hard time fighting those things!"

"Yeah, they had us backed up to the exit. Ammo ran out, so after the kid took off, Fix-It and I were cornered until the beacon went up. Five more seconds and I would've had to fight them off with a standard-issue straight edge." She took a long swig of her drink.

"Yeesh…Felix didn't fill me in on that either." He knew it must've been a close call, but he hadn't heard their half of the story before.

"Dunno why. He was ready to go down fighting and all he had was that hammer. No idea what he was planning to do with it."

He noticed she suddenly looked concerned, clenching her hands more tightly around the stein and furrowing her brow.

"If you don't mind me askin'…how's it going with Felix?"

Another long pause followed, and Calhoun slowly exhaled.

"I'm thinking I'll take a chance on the guy. Told him I'd get back to him about a meet-up when I was ready." She stared into the glass as she spoke, as though it was her conversational partner.

"Ah, I thought you already did. He talks about you all the time, so I figured…" Ralph gestured to her and to the general direction of his home game, then shrugged.

She buried her face in her root beer for a moment before responding. "Don't worry about it, I'm not gonna leave him hanging. I'm–my game's the problem." She paused. "Duty calls after-hours. Gotta make time when there's nothing critical going on."

He nodded, not acknowledging the hesitation. "I'm sure he's gonna be fine with whenever."

"Well, that's a safe bet, then. You know him better than me."

Ralph opened his mouth to respond, but stopped short. "Come to think of it…not really. I dunno, we didn't ever actually…talk to each other until a few nights ago. From the time we were plugged in, I sorta wasn't part of the game after-hours. The Nicelanders didn't like me much so I did my own thing out in the brickpile or–" he swept out his arm, gesturing to their current hangout, "–wherever. Something kinda went down between them and me the other night, and that's why all this happened. Felix came to apologize and let me know it's not gonna be like that anymore."

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Huh. That explains a lot." She looked up at him, then down at her hands, clenching and unclenching her fingers around the stein as she processed his story. "Sorry about your face, by the way," she finally mumbled.

"Eh, that's just how they programmed me. Can't help it if the character designers thought it was funny or–"

"No, I mean–" she mimed punching herself in the jaw.

"Oh!" He brought one giant hand to his face in recollection and laughed. "You know, I've been thrown off that roof pretty much every day for thirty years, but I can't remember the impact ever walloping me like that."

She groaned and shook her head. "As brainless as your plan was, you weren't as big of a fool as I thought you were. That volcano beacon took a lot of guts. Just don't go spreading any more deadly viruses, or you won't make it back next time."

He smiled sheepishly. That must've been what compliments sounded like from her. "No problem. Sorry for screwing up your first game of the day."

"Nah. That's just another Tuesday with Markowski."

"Hey, I picked the right disguise then."

Calhoun snorted. "Yeah."

For a time—whether a few minutes or half an hour, Ralph wasn't aware—they finished their drinks in a friendlier silence than those before. The sergeant wasn't as terrifying as he'd thought. Well, outside of her game, at least. Maybe it was the root beer, but he hadn't expected her to be so…relaxed. It was nice to talk to someone like that once in a while.

As abruptly as she'd called him over, she stood to leave.

"Welp, time to round up the jarheads. Nice talkin' to you, Wreck-It."

"Same here. See you around."

Ralph watched as Calhoun issued some sharp command of which he didn't know the meaning, and her men followed her out with a grunt of affirmation. The one who'd been crying earlier snatched a few extra napkins off the table and stuffed them in the breastplate of his armor before leaving. Calhoun raised a hand in parting, and Ralph returned a salute.

He considered it the third friendship he'd established that week.


End file.
